


Sweet Sixteen

by victor_create



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 80's Music, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Slurs, The Bowers Gang - Freeform, The Losers Club, billy idol - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-21 02:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victor_create/pseuds/victor_create
Summary: A single tear hung on to the end of Victor’s bottom lashes. Blue-black bruises covered every inch of his pale body. Cold water fell against his arched back, sending shivers down his spine. His bleach blonde hair fell across his fragile face. He gently brushed his fingertips over his bruised forearms and held back a sniff. He looked at himself in the reflection of the semi-fogged glass and stared into the eyes of a broken, misguided teen, void of friends and emotions. His tears couldn’t mask the pain of forgetting though, oh how he longed to forget. But just because you wish something doesn’t mean it’ll come true. He began to let his thoughts wander. But thinking made his mind ache. Ache more than the sores on his skin. More than the deep glares of his long-gone friends. But sometimes hurting helps.





	Sweet Sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed there's, like, NO patvic anywhere on the internet. So I wrote my own cuz if I want Bowers gang stuff, other people probs do, too.

Victor sat on a high up tree branch in Belch Huggins’ backyard humming the tune of Sweet Sixteen and watching his friends set fire to whatever they could get their hands on. He leaned back against the trunk of the tall red spruce tree and tucked his legs up to his chest.

“I'll do anything for my sweet sixteen…and I’ll do anything…hmmm.” He trailed off in thought. The summer breeze moving this thin hair to the side as he rocked his head back.

“Ah shit!” The yell of Henry Bowers snapped him back to reality. He slowly turned his head left to see his friend vigorously shaking his hand and gritting his teeth. Victor jumped off the branch and ambled over to his friend. “You fuckin’ burnt me!” Henry cursed, his face now red with anger.

“You shouldn’t ‘ave held it that close!” Belch retorted, stretching his arms out. The two shared furious glares before turning to the bleach blonde teen. Vic looked between the two awkwardly.

“Whatever, shit-for-brains. I’m off.” Henry rolled his eyes and popped the collar of his pink motorcycle jacket. He treaded out of his friend’s backyard. Vic glanced over at Belch who was rolling his eyes and biting his lip.

“Want me to go too?” Vic scratched the nape of his neck. Belch frowned a bit and nodded again. “Okay. I’ll catch ya tomorrow.” He said before leaping the fence onto the street.

 

The humid air had now cooled down and the wind had picked up a bit. Victor walked a few blocks before reaching his house. His dad’s car was parked in the drive way causing Victor to sigh under his breath. He gabbed one of the low branches of the American Beech tree planted outside his bedroom window. Vic hoisted his body up and began to climb higher. He gently opened his bedroom window and slid through feet first. Slowly, he closed his window and let out a quiet, relived laugh. Vic crawled onto his queen sized bed and just sat there, smiling to himself. His father hadn’t been home this early since his mother still lived with them. Usually, his dad would stay out drinking with his friends and only get home a few hours before he had to leave again. Vic shook the thoughts out of his head. He grabbed the cassette from his bedside table and listened to Whiplash Smile.

 

 

The next day, Victor walked back from the Derry train yards through the streets of Derry with nothing but his headphones and his Billy Idol cassette tape. He had been smoking and taking in the view at Kenduskeag for a while before he had to walk down to Henry’s house. Worlds Forgotten Boy was playing quietly in his ears as the wind gently blew against his skin. He watched as cars drove down Route 2 and kids rode their bikes cheerily on Old Lyme street, Victor had always wanted to have a bike. But that, along with any type of camera, was something he’d never had the luck to own. Vic had a habit of admiring the simple things in life, like the beauty of nature and the innocence of animals, even though the gang would make fun of him for being a ‘pansy’ if they ever knew. He had always wanted to capture these calming frames, but couldn’t because of his lack of a camera or video recorder. Victor’s mindless walking had taken him down Neibolt street, past the train yards and the dump. The worn-down dirt path turned into a road going left. The first thing he noticed ahead of him fos the dark, looming house that looked like it would collapse if you breathed on it too hard. The breeze was warm, but still sent shivers down Vic’s spine. He began to walk faster, more like a march, as the dark, two-story house came nearer. To Be A Lover began to play quietly, the audio was chopped up like a broken record, keeping Vic on edge and his footsteps brisk. He kept his eyes forward and looked at the church he was quickly getting closer to. He slowed down to his normal pace and breathed but still felt like something was watching him. Soul Standing By began to play.

 

When Victor finally arrived at Henry’s house he saw his friends sitting on the grass talking. He approached and took off his headphones after pausing his music. Now that he was standing among them he noticed another boy sitting in-between Belch and Henry. The boy's hair was shoulder length, long and oily. His frame was thin and scrawny with legs taking up most of his body. Vic glanced at Henry as if to say ‘who the fuck?’. Henry gestured for him to sit down and he did, the dewy grass tickling his lower leg.

“Vic, this is Patrick. Caught him setting shit on fire on ma way home ‘esterday.” Henry looked at Patrick and he gave a toothy grin back. Victor was unsettled by the man’s creepy exterior, though he was hesitant to judge by looks. “Batshit crazy, this man is.” Henry continued as Patrick began to braid blades of grass together. Vic clicked his tongue and looked at Belch who was holding a bar of soap and fiddling with it.

“You finally havin’ a shower, Belch?” Vic smiled as Belch’s face grew red. Patrick snorted and leaned forward to slap Vic’s knee.

“Dude, no. We’re gonna soap Uris’ windows.” Belch croaked. Patrick’s jaw dropped and his eyes lit up with excitement. On the other hand, Henry was rolling his eyes. Vic questioned whether it was because of the childish prank or because he was still mad at Belch for burning his hand. But either way, Vic was excited that they were finally doing a non-harmful activity. Together they all stood up and walked to Belch’s Trans AM. Henry sat shot-gun, as usual, and Vic sat int he back. Vic had noticed how long Patrick’s legs were compared tot he rest of his body before they got in the inclosed back seat, but he hadn’t realised how tall he was in general. Patrick squashed Vic against the left window with his legs and made the shorter teen uncomfortable the whole drive.

 

They sat in the car and watched Stanley Uris leave with his friends before they piled out and approached the house. Belch grabbed a few more soap bars from the glove box and chucked them to each of his friends.

“Ground rules. Whoev’a can ‘over the highest window wins.” Belch said and pointed to the second story of Mr Uris’ house. “‘nd no sabotaging ‘nyone.”

“M’kay. Three, two, one, go.” Patrick said before striding over to the house. Vic sped after him and leaped onto a tall tree next to a large bedroom window. He climbed briskly until he reached the overhang and crawled up to the glass. He looked in and saw a Talking Heads poster hanging over a tucked in bed. Vic grabbed the bar of soap from his back pocket and began to scrub vigorously against the window. He looked over and saw Patrick gazing at him, a smirk on his face.

“Yo.” Vic said to him, he smiled wider and crawled over to him. Vic scooted away a bit. “Aren’t you gonna soap one?”

“Nah, I’m not one to do competitive pranks. I’d rather real fun.” He leaned against the wall and tucked one leg up to his chin.

“‘Real fun’?” Vic echoed.

“Yeah, like…more peaceful…” Patrick sounded deep in thought. “I like animals. I like _observing_ them.” There was a subtle bitterness in his tone, the seductive kind of bitterness he had gotten used to hearing Henry use.

“If you’re not gonna compete, do you wanna at least help me with this?” Vic commanded. Patrick picked up on Vic’s cleverness and smiled, taking his soap bar and helping Vic cover the window.

Belch whistled from the ground and the three other boys leaped down. “‘ow many windows did you guys cover?” He asked. Henry held up four fingers, Patrick five and Vic seven. Patrick and Vic shared smiles and Henry glared at them. The gang heard Stan’s voice and they climbed back into the car and drove away, all smiling and chuckling. Patrick looked over at Vic, who had headphones on and was listening to Sweet Sixteen, he poked his cheek.

“Whatcha listening to?” Patrick snatched the headphones off of Vic’s head and scrunched up his face as he listened to the poppy guitar of Sweet Sixteen. “Dude.” Was all he said before he hesitantly handed them back.

“What? It’s good.” He said, turning up the music. Patrick shook his head and leaned against the window. “Alright, music know-it-all, what’s some ‘good music’?”

“Nirvana, XTC, anything that isn’t Billy Idol.” Patrick counted on his fingers.

“Billy Idol, what?” Henry butted in, forcing his opinion into the harmless conversation. “God, that guy sucks.”

“I know!” Patrick smiled. “Viccy was listening to Sweet Sixteen, save his soul.” He poked Vic’s shoulder. Vic frowned. He turned his music up to drown out the sound of his friends shit-talk his cassette. That was the first time he got Patrick Hockstetter.

 

The sun began to set as Vic finally got home. Again, his dad was home early and he repeated yesterday’s routine. He sprawled out on bed and looked at the ceiling, thinking about his mom.

“Victor!” His dad yelled loudly from downstairs. He flinched and quickly ran downstairs, his dad was crying on the floor with extensive amounts of empty beer bottles around him. Vic leaned down and poked his dad’s arm.

“You okay?” Vic asked. His dad looked up, his eyes were red and puffy.

“No…I don’t know, I just wanted a real boy…” He began to sob loudly. Vic looked confused.

“What?” He asked after a few seconds. His dad’s brows furrowed.

“Look at you! Might as well be a girl. And now I’m forced to look after you.” He yelled. Victor was used to this kind of behaviour from his dad so he didn’t say anything, allowing this dad to continue ranting. “It’s all her fuckin’ fault. I didn’t want a child. I didn’t want a girl.” He tightened his grip on his beer. “You fuckin’ fag, you’re the reason she left! Fucking pansy!” He threw a punch at Vic’s chin but missed.

“Go to bed, dad. You’re drunk.” Vic said before standing and going back to his room. He looked in the wall length mirror hung next to his bed. He had lost so much weight since his mom left, he looked like a prisoner. He stumbled to his bed and cried himself to sleep will nothing except the sound of his dad’s screaming to comfort him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably gonna update this by the end of the month, but if I don't I will very soon to the end of the month.


End file.
